Pieces of Susy
They say that one person can't ever save another, and I believe that's true, I know it is. But I want to speak for the value of action at exactly the right moment. Or is it inaction? I'm not so sure, but there's much more to being a good listener than listening.
The relativity of relatability saves me. We talk until time ticks away, and when it runs dry, we feel as if some likeness was achieved. I don't mean like a portrait on paper or a photographed image, I mean more in the realm of the sighing soul. You let me know all about you, and I'll tell you the same of me. That's what it means to be listening, to be speaking with the same eager reaction as the one who speaks to you. A conversation will far sooner heal your spirit than a blank and open ear. You could talk to yourself and feel better. At least you know what you need.
They say that one person can't ever save another, but when that one person is the only one you've got, their significance is unmatched and not to be underestimated. I've had friends in this life, but only one who was close enough to touch. I mean that in every sense of the word, because the barriers between bodies are like the walls between souls – both aching and necessary. To be reached out and touched is unlike all other sensations, come around to calm and quashing a urge for escape.
At some point you need to step back, and you will want to. For most, it's from a brief exchange, a handshake, a hug. Most embraces are short and silent. Where goes the closeness craved? Children are held for indeterminate time, and lovers are much the same. On a scale of miles to inches, down to not one millimeter at all, we place each of the humans in our lives on a scale away from us.
They say that one person can't ever save another, but I'm not sure if that's true. Perhaps not a salvation from all, but some. My lover, my closest friend, she taught me humanity in her when I only found it in myself. She brought me a canvas to paint my thoughts across, another home for brokenness while the puzzle maker comes along to put it back together – a surface to spread the scene and search for missing pieces. I feel as alone as always, but in the company of a holy soul. I may never be better than I've been, but I've never had more hope. Hold fast.
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Pieces of Susy
They say that one person can't ever save another, and I believe that's true, I know it is. But I want to speak for the value of action at exactly the right moment. Or is it inaction? I'm not so sure, but there's much more to being a good listener than listening.
The relativity of relatability saves me. We talk until time ticks away, and when it runs dry, we feel as if some likeness was achieved. I don't mean like a portrait on paper or a photographed image, I mean more in the realm of the sighing soul. You let me know all about you, and I'll tell you the same of me. That's what it means to be listening, to be speaking with the same eager reaction as the one who speaks to you. A conversation will far sooner heal your spirit than a blank and open ear. You could talk to yourself and feel better. At least you know what you need.
They say that one person can't ever save another, but when that one person is the only one you've got, their significance is unmatched and not to be underestimated. I've had friends in this life, but only one who was close enough to touch. I mean that in every sense of the word, because the barriers between bodies are like the walls between souls – both aching and necessary. To be reached out and touched is unlike all other sensations, come around to calm and quashing a urge for escape.
At some point you need to step back, and you will want to. For most, it's from a brief exchange, a handshake, a hug. Most embraces are short and silent. Where goes the closeness craved? Children are held for indeterminate time, and lovers are much the same. On a scale of miles to inches, down to not one millimeter at all, we place each of the humans in our lives on a scale away from us.
They say that one person can't ever save another, but I'm not sure if that's true. Perhaps not a salvation from all, but some. My lover, my closest friend, she taught me humanity in her when I only found it in myself. She brought me a canvas to paint my thoughts across, another home for brokenness while the puzzle maker comes along to put it back together – a surface to spread the scene and search for missing pieces. I feel as alone as always, but in the company of a holy soul. I may never be better than I've been, but I've never had more hope. Hold fast.
tumblr | etsy | blurb | facebook 1 - 2